


Don't Forget

by linguamortua



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Don't Ask Don't Tell, Flirting, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:14:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19338970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: It was objectively pathetic to still be pining over a man who: a) was his NCO, b) would be back in Texas soon and c) had given him a blowjob once, two months ago.





	Don't Forget

Nate made a sound of frustration that he knew was more dramatic than necessary. Catching Mike watching, he flung himself down on his cot. 

‘The other kids are being mean to me,’ he said, by way of explanation.

‘Dignity, Nate,’ Mike told him gravely. Nate had now known Mike Wynn long enough to understand that Mike was trying very hard not to smile. They shared a sense of humour like that. Nate popped back up to a sitting position and began to unlace his boots.

‘Hey, you want to be a lieutenant?’ he asked, wanting to crack Mike’s poker face. ‘The pay sucks, but the level of responsibility—’

‘Also sucks?’ This time Mike did grin, and Nate grinned back. Sometimes he kind of enjoyed the absurdity of military service. In a really masochistic way. Mike pulled himself to his feet. ‘All right, I’m done here.’

‘Looks great.’ 

Mike had been packing up some of the stuff the last guys had left behind. Sometimes you got a nice, fresh, empty tent to sleep in; sometimes you got a recently-vacated one complete with stashes of dirty socks, porn, and empty food wrappers. Clutter aggravated Mike, and he had been aggressively resolving the problem, going tent to tent while Nate wrestled with his superiors and signed inventory forms.

‘See, if we traded places you’d be tidying up after the officers,’ Mike warned him. ‘Working your fingers to the bone for a bunch of ungrateful—’

‘Oh no, you’re not making me feel guilty.’

The way Mike chuckled made Nate feel warm. He enjoyed bantering with Mike way more than he had any right to. That was a problem. It was objectively pathetic to still be pining over a man who: a) was his NCO, b) would be back in Texas soon and c) had given him a blowjob once, two months ago. On the other hand, Mike was also just as objectively a great guy, and Nate would say so to anyone who might be interested in him. So it wasn’t as though Nate was exhibiting bad taste.

He busied himself with pulling his boots off and tucking them under the edge of the cot. There was an hour until chow, which was just enough time to either nap or read for a bit. He hadn’t decided which, yet. Nate laced his fingers behind his head and looked up at the tent canvas, until Mike’s face popped into view.

‘You’re blushing, Nate,’ Mike said. His voice was very quiet.

‘We’re in a desert, Mike,’ said Nate, desperately staring slightly past Mike’s left ear, ‘and I don’t know if you’ve noticed but deserts are, uh, really warm.’

‘I see you’re being cute,’ Mike drawled, in the same voice he used when his guys were trying hard to get away with something that they all knew Mike knew about.

 _I’m always cute,_ Nate wanted to say. _It’s the cross I bear._ But even though Mike was very close to him right now and had officially _started it_ , Nate couldn’t say it. There was no shame and no harming in wanting a man. There was, in Nate’s estimation, quite a lot of shame in potentially getting one of his NCOs into hot water because he couldn’t resist a snappy remark.

‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’ Nate asked. 

‘Not really.’

‘If I gave you an order, would you go and do it?’

‘Sure,’ Mike said, ‘but you won’t.’

Nate heaved a sigh and looked at Mike. No, he wouldn’t give Mike an order specifically to make him go away, even if it were something that actually needed doing. In fact, if there was anything that needed doing it would already have been done, because Mike was that kind of NCO.

‘I’m in hell,’ Nate said.

‘Technically no rule against tormenting officers,’ Mike said, miming jabbing Nate with a pitchfork. 

Nate snorted.

‘Out with it, then,’ he said. They had been building up to this for weeks anyway.

‘Nah,’ said Mike, ‘you already know.’

‘I do, Nate said. He propped himself up on his hands so that he didn’t have to gaze up at Mike like he was playing at being a tall and razor burned incarnation of Sleeping Beauty. 

‘Be crazy not to,’ Mike said, looking at Nate’s mouth for a second. ‘To know.’

‘Exactly,’ said Nate, trying not to pay attention to how close Mike was, or how he was right on the edge of needing to shave, or how thick and good his neck looked. ‘And it’s not like I would forget.’

‘You’re a smart guy,’ agreed Mike.

‘I like to think so.’

‘So I wouldn’t have to jog your memory in a few weeks time,’ Mike said, like a statement and not a question. ‘Call you up and remind you.’

‘I mean, you have my number,’ said Nate helpfully.

Mike looked pleased, which was a torment all of its own to Nate. ‘Right.’

‘You always know exactly what to do, Mike.’ Nate hoped that Mike could recognise that he wasn’t just saying that in the context of this deeply meta conversation. ‘I’ve appreciated you having my back out here.’ 

Mike looked even more pleased. A desperate urge to wrestle Mike onto the floor and make out with him for about an hour was washing through Nate. He valiantly fought it.

‘Anyway,’ said Mike. ‘Just wanted to be sure you hadn’t forgotten.’ He gathered up his box of discarded junk, passing Encino Man— _Schwetje_ , Nate reminded himself for the hundredth time—on the way out the tent.

‘Forgotten what, Nate?’ Schwetje asked, in that stupid, obnoxious way he had, when he wanted to be included in a private conversation.

‘Nothing important,’ said Nate, ‘some paperwork.’

‘Shit, did I have paperwork?’ Schwetje asked. 

‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re lucky, having Mike around to remind you. Griego doesn’t remind me about shit.’ He pulled a face.

Nate had to look away, appalled by how close he was to laughing. He closed his eyes and pulled his soft cover down over his face, in the universal symbol for ‘leave me alone.’ Even Schwetje understood that, and he blissfully stopped talking.

Three more days before they flew out of Iraq. Nate knew what would be on the top of his to do list, just as soon as he got home.


End file.
